


Taboo

by mistr3ssquickly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi
Genre: F/M, Feel free to laugh at me for that, I'm going to claim this is a character study, M/M, Plot if you turn your head and squint, Porn, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6291628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistr3ssquickly/pseuds/mistr3ssquickly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke and Leia adjust to the news that they're related. Han helps.</p><p>Kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taboo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [culturevulture73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/culturevulture73/gifts).



**Taboo**

Han expects to spend the night alone after the destruction of the second _Death Star,_ tired and strung out and wearing Leia’s kisses like shame around the edges of his consciousness, her quiet but firm rejection of his invitation to spend the night warming his bed a relief heavy with guilt and self-reproach he doesn’t care to think about too deeply and doesn’t have a store of liquor to help distract him from doing just that. He considers, briefly, leaving his quarters to find Lando and see if he has a stash saved away somewhere, ends up walking, instead, the mists of Endor’s moon heavy against his skin, the weight of suspicion and paranoia and stale adrenaline thick in his throat, even in the odd silence among the trees.

A noise startles him, has his blaster out of its holster and aimed to kill before he’s had a chance to fully process the thought that he’s in danger, the pull of his finger against the trigger stilled only by the sudden glow of Luke’s lightsaber, almost painfully bright in the darkness. Han stares at it, stupid with adrenaline for a long second before lowering his weapon, breathing _hey, Luke_ on a sigh that reveals more of his weariness than he’d intended.

“You scared me,” Luke says by way of apology, darkness washing in like water as he disengages the blade of his ‘saber, leaving Han to blink in sudden blindness of the enveloping dark.

 _“I_ scared _you?”_ Han says, looking around, the outline of the trees coming slowly visible against the not-quite-solid darkness of the sky. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Meditating,” Luke says. “You?”

“Just takin’ a walk,” Han says. He crosses his arms over his chest, his skin going cold as the adrenaline bleeds away, leaving him chilled in the heavy night air. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Luke says. “I was just heading back, so ...”

“Yeah. I’ll go with you.”

They walk back together in companionable silence, Luke’s hands in his pockets, the soft _click_ of his lightsaber jouncing against his leg beating a steady, comforting rhythm between them. He stops when he reaches the door to his quarters, turning to look at Han, his mouth open in what Han assumes will be _goodnight,_ and it’s a combination of weariness and loneliness and lust that pushes him to reach out and touch Luke on the wrist, the long-formed habit of finishing whatever half thought-out plan he’s got slanting a smirk across his mouth, his grip firm on Luke’s arm, finding no resistance when he gives Luke an experimental tug.

“C’mon,” he says, jerking his head towards his own quarters. “Just for tonight.”

Luke considers him for just a moment too long, then dips his head in a nod. “All right.”

He smells of camp smoke when Han leans down to kiss him, the two of them wrapped in the quiet of Han’s quarters, his clothes heavy with the humidity of the evening, the dark fabric thicker than the thin white linens he used to wear, which Han finds he preferred, the darker material putting up a resistance to his efforts to strip Luke naked without losing the feel of Luke’s tongue in his mouth. He fails in that endeavor but he gets a front row view of Luke undressing while he pulls off his own clothes, the scars and bruises marring Luke’s golden skin only distracting him for a moment before Luke steps out of his trousers, his cock fully erect already, long and thick and exactly what Han wants.

“Been a while,” he says, stepping in to wrap his hand around Luke’s cock, stroking it gently a few times before tightening his grip, tugging the foreskin down below the dark, sensitive head, Luke grunting into his mouth in response, shivering when Han pulls him close, his cock rubbing against Han’s thigh. “Missed it.”

Luke shivers again, dropping his head to Han’s shoulder. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” he says, even as he pushes his hips forward, seeking friction Han is plenty glad to give him, stroking him steadily with his palm, keeping the length of him pressed to his hip. “I thought you and Leia —”

“Part’a being consort to a princess is the freedom to take other lovers,” Han tells him, hoping Luke’s tendency to know little about the specifics of cultural practices across the galaxy will save him scrutiny applied to his generalizations. He dips his head to kiss Luke on the throat, moves up to the sensitive spot behind his ear, Luke’s hair brushing ticklishly against his nose. “’Sides, I’d rather have you.”

Luke tenses against him, his cock going suddenly slick between them. Han buries his grin in the curve of Luke’s neck, biting him hard enough to make Luke whine, his own cock making a mess of Luke’s thigh as they kiss and rub against one another, as artless and sloppy as two teenagers fumbling each other in the dark.

Luke fucks him that night, puts him on his back in his squashy, narrow bunk and fucks him deep, his urgency thick like camp smoke between them, giving his touch an animal edge that Han rather likes, spreading his legs and bracing against the power of Luke’s passion over and inside him, the stretch and pressure of getting fucked deep keeping him right on the edge of orgasm when Luke cries out and comes inside him, shaking all over with it. He comes down Luke’s throat, once Luke’s got his breath back, the younger man generous as ever with his mouth, sucking at Han like he’s starved for it, his eyes closed as he swallows, lips swollen and wet when he pulls off and licks them, looking up at Han through the fringe of his bangs. Easily the most beautiful sight Han’s ever seen.

“Well,” Han says, once he’s got his breath back, his heart still beating hard against his ribs, “at least now when Leia kills me, I’ll be dying a happy man.”

Luke kisses him on the knee. “Why would she kill you? I thought you said —”

“For taking you away from her,” Han says. He looks down the length of his own body, his skin marked with the memory of Luke’s pleasure, bruises sucked into his skin, blurred by the wetness of his precome drying tacky on his belly. “You’re a damn good lay, kid.”

Luke goes very pink in the face. “Thanks,” he says, awkward.

“Kinda surprised Leia was willing to give this up without a fight.”

“She’s my sister,” Luke says on a sigh.

“And your lover,” Han says. “For a while now. Half a year’s a long time.”

“She’s my _sister,”_ Luke repeats, too accustomed to pulling his impenetrable Jedi act to look entirely scandalized, but Han knows him well enough and has bluffed his way through enough card games to know what’s what.

“So don’t get her pregnant,” he says on a shrug. “Seriously, Luke, she’s a beautiful woman, you love her, you two weren’t raised together — what’s it matter if you’re related? Ain’t like you knew before recently.”

Luke doesn’t look at him. “But we know now,” he says.

“And?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone. Tradition.”

“Whose tradition?”

 _That_ gets Luke to look at him. “What?”

“Never heard of it being explicitly taboo on Tatooine,” Han says, consciously not grinning at the flicker of something he sees in Luke’s eyes, maybe temper, maybe hope. Hard to tell. “Most folks there’re just trying to survive or get off the planet or both. No room for pesky things like worrying about who’s keeping you warm at night. And on Alderaan, everyone was so obsessed with politics that marriage and kids’re treated more like treaties and trade agreements. No benefit in marrying into your own ring of power, but if you aren’t powerful, you marry who’ever you want and sleep with who’ever gets you off.” He slants a grin at Luke, looking the younger man up and down, slow and dirty. “You would’a been popular there. Alderaanian girls like a pretty face on a man.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment. Then he frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, looks Han in the eye, unblinking. “So you weren’t, I’m guessing?” he says.

It takes Han a solid ten seconds to get the joke and realize he’s being insulted. He growls and tugs Luke down, laughing despite himself as he kisses muted laughter off of Luke’s mouth, Luke’s hands warm as he pulls at Han, keeping him close.

“Thank you for trying to cheer me up,” he says when Han flops back down beside him, too tired to try to go another round despite his cock stiffening against Luke’s thigh, as easily stimulated as always by Luke’s presence and touch and kisses. “We’ll be all right, Leia and I. Just takes time to adjust.”

Han snorts. “Waste of effort, adjusting,” he says. “Life’s too short to worry about who you love, Luke.”

“Good,” Luke says, “because I think I might be in love with you.”

Han’s heart stutters in his chest. He pushes himself up on an elbow, looks down at the man beside him, Luke’s face giving away nothing but calm, the barest hint of a smile warming his lips, as if he’d just commented on the weather or the awesome power of Han’s ship, not professed his love to the man.

“Don’t tell Leia,” he says around a yawn, only half-covering his mouth with his hand.

Han laughs, shaking his head as he leans down to kiss Luke’s mouth. “Won’t,” he says, resting his forehead against the younger man’s. “I promise.”

\---

He slips out of his quarters some hours later, his body protesting against the hours of sleep he could stand to have, really, as he makes his way to the _Falcon,_ Chewbacca growling a question at him as he flops down into the captain’s flight-seat and starts poking at the nav controls.

“Nah, no trouble, pal,” Han reassures him. “Just a change in plans. Start checking the channels, see if there’s any work in the Taestver system.”

Chewbacca shrugs and does as he’s told, producing a list of runs Han normally wouldn’t even give the benefit of a glance, all smalltime stuff, barely illegal enough to warrant a smuggler. He skims through them without looking at the dubious expression on his first mate’s face, finds a run that won’t pay enough to cover even the fuel it’ll cost them and marks it off, sends a coded message indicating interest. Sighs through his nose when Chewbacca rumbles a question at him about his mental well-being, positing the possibility of head-trauma or a brain parasite and the resulting need for immediate medical attention.

“My head’s fine, you big hairball,” Han says, tossing the datapad at him, unsurprised when Chewbacca catches it and demands more directly to know what’s going on. “Just gonna take a little detour, that’s all. Somethin’ for Luke. And Leia.”

Chewbacca honks something at him that sounds suspiciously like _sucker._ Swats at him when Han gets up from his flight-seat and punches him in the shoulder, grumbling about brain parasites as Han makes his way back to his quarters on base to get some much-needed sleep.

\---

Leia’s furious with him within the first hour following launch the next morning.

“We’ve changed course,” she says by way of greeting when Han walks into the cockpit from making repairs deep in the belly of the ship and finds her leaning over Chewbacca’s shoulder, bristling like she’s been waiting against her will for him to show up and get an earful from her.

“Just a little detour,” Han tells her, rubbing absently at a smear of engine grease on his wrist.

“To the Taestver system,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“The Sosken cluster.”

“Pickin’ up a little side-job,” Han says. “Somethin’ to cover the cost of hauling you ‘n Luke around for your Republic.”

Leia crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Actually I’m — oh hey, Luke.”

Luke hesitates in the doorway, looking from Han to his sister and back again, clearly trying to decide if he wants to be part of their argument, as uncomfortable as ever with their tendency to snipe at each other whenever they’ve got their clothes on. Han does his best to offer him a reassuring smile, leaning nonchalantly against the back of his flight-seat, Leia still prickling at him, her earlier insult hanging in the air between them.

“Is everything okay?” Luke says.

“Fine,” Han says.

“We’re off course,” Luke prompts.

“He’s taking a detour,” Leia says. “To the Sosken cluster.”

Luke looks at her blankly. Leia sighs. “Look it up,” she says, shooting Han one more filthy look before pushing past her brother. “And _you_ can go with him for his little ‘detour.’ I’m staying aboard.”

Then she’s gone, leaving Luke to look at Han expectantly, both eyebrows raised. Han waves it away, presenting Luke with his back as he sinks into his flight-seat. “Just a detour to pick up some work, kid,” he says.

Luke settles in the flight-seat behind him. “She was right, you know,” he says, after an all-too-short moment of peace. “You’re not very convincing when you lie.”

Han swings around to glare at him. “Ain’t a lie.”

“But it isn’t the truth, either.”

“It’s rude to listen in on my thoughts, Luke.”

Luke sighs. “That isn’t how the Force works,” he says. “What’s in the Sosken cluster?”

“Work.”

“What’s there that Leia’s objecting to?” Luke clarifies.

Han shakes his head. “You’ll see when we get there,” he says. “Shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

\---

Leia, true to her word, stays on the _Falcon_ when they make planetfall just shy of two hours later, Luke accompanying Han to the pick-up point, unassuming and observant as always as Han haggles and argues and ends up with a better price than he should, really, his projected profits still coming in lower than he would’ve allowed, back before the Skywalker twins happened to him. He takes Luke to a streetside pub on the way back to the _Falcon,_ buys him a mug of lum. Sits back with his own drink and watches, content with the sight of Luke looking around, taking in the swirl of activity and conversation around them, Luke’s natural curiosity and intelligence almost tangible, coming off of him in waves.

“Everyone moves around in pairs here,” he observes after a long moment, turning to take a cautious sip of his drink.

“Mmm-hmm. You stand out if you’re doin’ business alone,” Han says.

“They’re all physically similar, as well,” Luke says. He rests his forearms on the table, leans forward. “They’re all related, aren’t they.”

Figured it out faster than Han was expecting. Han shrugs. “It’s the way it’s done here,” he says. “You can take a non-family consort if you really want to — and it’s not as uncommon to want to as it used to be — but marriage is between siblings. Adopted siblings in cases where there’s no blood relative.”

Luke ponders that for a moment, sipping at his drink like he’s not tasting it. A pity; it’s a decent brew, a bit sweeter than Han prefers, but not off-putting. “Genetically, that seems like it wouldn’t work in the long-run,” he says.

“Reproduction’s a different story,” Han tells him. “There’s a whole system for it, government-run, keeps everybody related to everybody and nobody and all that. They put it in place after a civil war, long time ago. Figured it’d keep that from happening again if there weren’t family lines to cross.”

“I see,” Luke says. He watches the crowds move and mingle, tapping the tip of his bionic index finger against his glass. Turns to look at Han, his gaze unblinking, long enough that Han has to concentrate on not showing his discomfort with it. “I can see why Leia objected to coming here,” he says, finally.

“Because it was my idea?” Han says.

“Because it’s none of your business, Han,” Luke says, his voice weary. “This is between me and Leia.”

“As one of the few sentients stuck on a ship with the pair’a you _and_ as the guy who’s sleepin’ with both of you, I’d argue that it _is_ my business,” Han says. He takes a gulping swallow of his drink, bumps his hand against Luke’s. “Don’t like seeing you upset, either. Pretty fond of you, y’know.”

Luke’s expression softens. “I know,” he says. “And thanks, for trying. We’ll work it out.”

“Still say there’s nothin’ to work out,” Han says.

Luke doesn’t answer, emptying his mug fast enough that Han takes the hint, silence stretching between them as they make their way back to the _Falcon_ to complete their run.

\---

Two days pass before the topic comes up again.

Han’s in his cabin, drowsing and happy from a long bout of lovemaking with Leia when Luke comes to see him, flushed and hard already when Han opens the door for him, not hesitating to drop to his knees and pull at Han’s trousers, sucking Han into his mouth the instant he can manage, his tongue working at the still-soft length like it’s the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. He keeps his hands on Han’s hips as Han hardens against his tongue, holds his breath when Han’s come fully erect, tugging in the way he does when he wants Han to take control, thrusting into his mouth. He takes it just as beautifully as ever, doesn’t gag or bite or resist, and the utter _submission_ of it is enough to bring Han off faster than he’s expecting, having come not half an hour earlier in the warmth of Leia’s embrace. He shivers as Luke licks him clean, has to push the younger man away when the brush of his tongue becomes too much, Luke leaning his forehead against Han’s hip once he’s taken the hint and left Han’s cock alone.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says, his voice hoarse and almost too quiet for Han to make out the words, his breath warm and harsh against Han’s thigh. “I felt you and Leia together, and I — I didn’t mean to, but I was going through my exercises, and I felt you, both of you and — I could see it, I could _feel_ it, and it was too much. I wanted you so much. _Both_ of you.”

Han blinks down at him, slow and confused still in the fog of the afterglow. He runs his fingers through Luke’s hair, his heart stuttering a little when Luke looks up at him, so much _feeling_ in his beautiful blue eyes, heartbreak and guilt and worry, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Pulls Luke up for a kiss, a little thrill winding through him as always at the taste of his semen in Luke Skywalker’s generous, talented mouth, one of his hands slipping down between them to palm at the length of Luke’s erection, a belated bolt of lust arcing through him as he feels the wet-spot on Luke’s trousers, precome soaked through the thick fabric.

Luke doesn’t last long enough for Han to get him out of his clothes, doesn’t even last long enough for Han to unfasten his trousers and stroke him skin-to-skin, his orgasm taking both of them by surprise, making a mess inside his clothing. He looks even more miserable and embarrassed after the last shudders have run through him, the strong, experienced man Han’s come to love over the years disappearing behind the shy virgin farm-boy he took to bed on a whim a lifetime ago, expecting it to be a one-time thing.

“I wanted to taste her on you,” Luke says like a confession when Han prods him about the whole felt-you-and-Leia-together thing. “I could sense you, through the Force. Strongly enough that I had a vision.” He looks Han in the eye, pulling at his Jedi calm mannerisms, wearing them like chipped, broken armor. “I’m worried that it will tempt me to the Dark Side. Dominate my thoughts.”

“What, watching us mess around?” Han says, flippant in a way his evening with Leia absolutely doesn’t deserve, her passion and skill in bed as incredible as ever.

“Resenting it,” Luke says.

Han chews that over. “You talked to Leia about this?” he wants to know.

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t know how to.”

“Want me to do it for you?”

_“No.”_

Han laughs. “Didn’t think so.” He wraps his hand around the back of Luke’s neck, pulls him in for a kiss. “Look, it’s just Leia,” he says against Luke’s mouth, keeping his grip firm, holding Luke close. “Ain’t nothin’ to be scared of, for you anyway. She loves you.”

“She’s —”

“A hot-blooded woman with a good head on her shoulders,” Han says. “Go talk to her. Tell her you don’t want to give her up. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The look on Luke’s face tells him clearly enough that he’s pondered the answer to that question and hasn’t reconciled himself with whatever answer he’s come up with. Han shakes his head, presses another kiss to Luke’s mouth. “Talk to her,” he says. “Better you than me, right?”

Luke nods without hesitation, an insult Han lets slide. “I’ll think about it,” he says. Then: “Thanks. For listening.”

Han’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Anytime, kid,” he says. “You know where to find me.”

\---

New orders come in a day and a half later, distracting Han from staring out the cockpit of the _Falcon,_ unfocused as he mulls over Luke’s visit to his quarters, memory playing Luke’s gasped _wanted to taste her on you_ like a loop, leaving him hard in his trousers as he watches the stars streak by. He adjusts himself before calling Chewbacca on the comlink, notifying Luke and Leia of their new objective, the risks calculated into their orders helping him focus, his personal life pushed far aside as he argues strategy with his friends, the old comfort of worry and adrenaline coming back to cover him like a hand.

They save the world together over the stretch of two weeks, save their own skins by a margin thinner than Han would prefer, his flying and Luke’s sharp gunning and Leia’s devious strategies sending more than a few TIE pilots to an early grave in the cold darkness of space, the intelligence carried on the cruiser the TIEs were protecting reclaimed and safe, stowed in one of the deeper hidden compartments aboard the _Falcon._ Leia kisses him on the cheek once it’s over and done with, gives Luke a hug when he comes up from helping Chewbacca secure the hold, her cheeks flushing pink when she pulls away from the hug and Luke kisses her, nothing more than a quick press of his lips against hers, but natural and comfortable enough that Han raises an eyebrow at it, a grin slipping through what’s left of his restraint as he nudges Luke in the ribs with his elbow the very minute Leia isn’t around to see him do it.

“Don’t you say a _word,”_ Luke says, looking at Han sidelong, his expression weary enough that Han shakes his head and pulls him close for a better kiss than the one he got from Leia.

“Wasn’t planning to,” he says.

He _does_ plot a course for the nearest civilized world, though, once he’s sent confirmation to Admiral Akbar that they’ve successfully completed their mission, tacking on a not-quite-lie about needing to stop for maintenance before they continue on to the next point of interest, then leaves the _Falcon_ in Chewbacca’s command in favor of going to his quarters to sleep, too tired to mind that his bed is empty, neither twin coming to share it with him before sleep claims him, dragging him under like a drug. He’s lost in the shreds of a nightmare when Luke comes to see him, hours later, sleepy but alert enough when he opens the door to notice that Luke’s hair is mussed, the very edge of what looks suspiciously like a lovebite visible near the collar of Luke’s tunic, the front unfastened, the fabric rumpled.

“Been celebrating our victory, have you?” Han says, stretching out in his bunk when Luke takes the chair at the center of the room, his movements fluid and graceful and controlled, every inch the Jedi he’d like everyone (including himself) to believe he is. The act falters only a little, tarnished by the flush that darkens Luke’s face, his naturally light complexion still wonderfully consistent in giving him away when Han’s teasing has hit the mark.

“You said there was nothing wrong with it,” he says, and where he’s going for a neutral tone, there’s enough of an accusatory undertone in his voice to speak of worry and defensiveness.

“Isn’t anything wrong with it,” Han says, “’cept how long you went without. And made your princess go without, too.”

“It’s not just sex, you know,” Luke says. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Han shrugs. “I don’t see how.”

Luke sighs like a man unduly put-upon and looks away, staring at the edge of the door to Han’s quarters for what feels like a very long time. “Our father,” he says, eventually, pulling Han out of the light doze he’d slipped into, waiting for Luke to gather his thoughts. “Leia’s and mine. Has she talked to you about him?”

“No. Someone I know?”

Luke nods, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes.”

Han waits. “The old man?” he ventures, when Luke doesn’t say anything. “Ben-something, wasn’t it?”

“Ben Kenobi,” Luke says. “Obi-Wan. And no, he wasn’t our father.” He draws a deep breath, the pull of it like a physical drag against Han’s soul, dark with dread even Han can feel. Luke’s eyes are cold when he looks at Han, his mouth set in a thin frown. “Darth Vader,” he says. “He was my father. And Leia’s. We were separated at birth and kept secret from him so that he wouldn’t try to use our Force sensitivity to turn us. To lure us into joining him in the Dark Side.”

Han reaches for something reassuring to say, some flippant joke to lift the weight of the air in the room, but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is: “You sure? That he’s your father?”

Luke nods. “He told me, on Bespin. And I could tell, once I knew. He was telling the truth.”

“Oh. Huh. That’s —” Han gestures vaguely, lets his hand fall back to his belly with a slap. Looks at Luke’s face, meeting his gaze. Seeing plenty of emotion running behind the forced-calm mask, hurt and fear and reproach and countless others, plain in the bright blue of Luke’s eyes. “That’s a helluva thing, Luke,” he says, finally. “Explains why the two’a you are so good at readin’ minds, though.”

“We don’t —” Luke cuts himself off, shaking his head as if correcting Han’s casual misunderstanding of the Force isn’t worth the effort this time. “We talked about it. We thought you should know. Since you’re ... _with_ both of us.”

“Hope you don’t want to know anything about my old man in return,” Han says, stalwartly ignoring the glimmer of hope that kicks at his spine at Luke’s words, their implications considerably less grim than Luke’s attitude has been letting on. “’cause I never met him, couldn’t tell you his name if I wanted to.”

“I don’t think it matters, usually,” Luke says.

“Don’t think it matters, even in your case,” Han says. _“Especially_ in your case. So your old man was a murderous bastard, that doesn’t mean much, ‘cept that you’n Leia are stronger than he was, helpin’ out with the rebellion instead of joining the stronger side.” He shrugs when Luke winces, keeping his gaze trained on the younger man, even when Luke looks away. “You could’ve, you know. Would’ve meant a lot more power and safety for you’n your princess, if you had.”

“It wouldn’t’ve been the right thing to do,” Luke says, softly.

Han laughs and closes his eyes, stretching as much as the confines of his bunk will allow. “And that’s why I love you,” he says around a yawn. “One’a the reasons, anyway.”

He opens one eye when he hears Luke stand, pleased when Luke sits at the edge of the bed and leans down to kiss him.

“Thank you,” Luke says.

“For what?”

Luke shakes his head and kisses him again, his footfalls oddly silent as he leaves Han alone with his thoughts.

\---

He’s manning the cockpit while Chewbacca rests when Leia comes to see him some hours later, only the faint scent of her perfume alerting him to her presence, silent and ethereal in her favored white robes as she stands just behind his flight-seat, watching the stars streak by. She arches an eyebrow at him when he jumps, startled, and breathes a curse. Moves closer into his peripheral vision with her arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her lips as he collects himself, his heart pounding under his ribs.

“I thought maybe you’d fallen asleep, sitting there,” she says. “I didn’t want to startle you.”

“Did that anyway,” Han grumbles. “You’n Luke are too damn good at that.”

“At?”

“Sneakin’ up on me. Starting to think you two are gonna put me in the ground.”

Leia puts her hand on his shoulder, warmth seeping slowly through the fabric of his shirt. “We won’t,” she says, soft and serious in a way that makes Han feel warm inside, reaching up to cover her hand with his own. “Luke said he talked to you.”

“About Vader? Yeah, he did.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

Han looks up at her. “Should it?”

Leia swallows. “I saw what he did to you, Han,” she says. “I know what he was capable of.”

“He wasn’t a nice guy,” Han concedes, “but you’re nothing like him. Luke isn’t, either. Doesn’t make you scared of Luke, does it, that he’s Vader’s son?”

A smile warms on Leia’s lips. “No,” she says. “It doesn’t.”

“Well, then, there you go.”

Leia pulls her hand from under Han’s and runs her fingers through his hair, leaning close to kiss him when he sighs in pleasure. “You’re such a simple creature,” she says, putting up no resistance when Han reaches out and pulls her sideways into his lap, his recent abstinence from her touch making the weight of her against him compelling and arousing, the intensity of her kisses telling him he’s not the only one who’s missed it. He keeps her close while she shifts against him, cups one of her breasts through her gown once she’s settled comfortably, worrying the nipple with the pad of his thumb until it stiffens, sensitive under his touch. She shies from him a few seconds later, hypersensitive as always, tense until he moves his hand down to her side, the smooth curve of her hip, leaving her to rub against him however she likes, showing off her strength and flexibility as she manages, despite the awkward position he’s holding her in.

She’s twisted to straddle his lap when Luke walks in on them, two of Han’s fingers inside her and his thumb against her clit, his erection trapped between them, straining under the weight of her as she rocks her hips into his touch. He pushes his hips up under her when she stops moving, twists his fingers a little inside her cunt to get her to go back to rocking against him as she was and gets ignored for his troubles, Leia reaching out behind Han’s flight-seat to pull Luke into Han’s range of vision, close enough for her to kiss him. Luke looks deeply uncomfortable with the whole thing, his free hand tentative as he rests it on Han’s shoulder, but he doesn’t resist kissing Leia, his cheeks flushed red as he closes his eyes and gives her a slow, probing kiss that makes Han’s cock ache under Leia’s weight, jerking when he feels Leia tighten around his fingers in response to Luke’s tongue pressing into her mouth.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Luke says when Leia pulls away from the kiss, shifting in Han’s lap to ease the strain on her hips, the friction her movements generate rubbing not quite enough against Han’s straining cock.

“Ain’t an interruption if you’re joining the party, kid,” Han says.

“I hardly think the cockpit of the _Falcon_ is an appropriate place for any sort of party,” Leia says, for all that she’s got Han’s fingers inside her, his thumb resting to the side of her clit, close enough that he can feel that she’s still half-hard.

He shrugs. “There’re better places for it where we’re going,” he says, “if you can wait that long. Should be there in a couple’a hours, at most.”

Leia gives him a severe look. “You’ve changed course again,” she says. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

“Got some repairs to do,” Han says, well-aware that the grin on his face is ruining whatever act he might’ve been trying to pull off. “’Sides, bunks on board aren’t big enough for the three of us.”

Leia gives her brother a look, sighing as she pushes herself up, off of Han’s lap, pulling away from his hand with a little more difficulty, Han refusing to cooperate, not wanting to let her go. “I’m going to go rest,” she says, though the way she laces her fingers with Luke’s gives Han the sneaking suspicion that she’s lying about her intentions. “Let me know when we’re landing.”

Han salutes, adjusting his cock in his trousers, just to make a point. “Will do, princess,” he says.

He leaves his cock to go soft in the cool mess it’s made in his underwear, distracting himself with the minor work the flight deck seems to endlessly need, even when they’re in a slow time and Han’s had the opportunity to service each instrument and check for problems. He’s on his back with his head half inside one of the lower segments, addressing a wiring problem when Chewbacca comes in, sniffing pointedly at the air and complaining about Han making a mess in the cockpit again. Doesn’t look at all convinced when Han insists that nothing happened, bares his teeth when Han gives up and tells him to mind his own business.

“Tell ya what, pal,” he says, sitting up and replacing the panel he’d removed, “once we’re back with the others, you take the _Falcon_ and go home, see your family. Been a while since you did that.”

Chewbacca treats him to the equivalent of a Wookiee glare and informs him that _most_ lifeforms don’t shrivel up and die without mating every ten minutes. Han snorts and argues that he doesn’t shrivel until it’s been a month, at least. Gets a string of insulting names assigned to him that he takes in good humor, chuckling as he checks their course.

“Both of ‘em,” he says, when Chewbacca drops his voice and asks which twin Han plans to take planetside, his tone thick with disapproval, pity for whichever sibling Han _doesn’t_ name clearly waiting in the wings. “Gonna give it a try, see if we can make it work.”

Wookiees don’t emote surprise like most sentients Han knows, but Chewbacca does his best. He’s quiet for a moment, then informs Han that he’d better not end up hurting either twin, his tone serious in a way that Han takes as an open offense.

“I won’t,” he says, “and don’t call ‘em _cub,_ you overgrown Ewok. Makin’ me feel old.”

Chewbacca gives him a Look and doesn’t respond, busying himself with prep for the drop out of lightspeed while Han grumbles at him.

They dock the _Falcon_ in one of the nicer spaceports Han’s visited, all of the profits from their side-trip to the Sosken cluster eaten up by the docking fees alone, but walking out with Leia and Luke to either side of him makes the cost feel worth it already, despite their silence, the distance between them. He wonders as he leads them through a busy market to a shuttle that will take them to the heart of the city if they went back to their quarters together or alone, torn between hoping they didn’t and imagining what it might’ve looked like if they did, his eagerness to find a shuttle and get his lovers alone in a room with a bed large enough to accommodate the three of them doubling as his imagination provides him with a slideshow that would make most of the partners he’s had over the years blush and call him a pervert.

“Stopping here for repairs, hmm?” Leia says as she walks into the room Han rents for them, a modest place, nothing fancy or extravagant, the bed centered in the room about as subtle as a Rancor’s charge.

“Chewie’s got it,” he says. “Told me to stay out of his hair while he worked. That’s what I’m doing.”

Leia rolls her eyes. Luke shakes his head, darting a hesitant glance at Han before drawing Leia close in an embrace that speaks to defense more than affection, Leia leaning against him with her eyes closed, her cheek pressed to his chest. Han gives them the privacy of his turned back, no rush in his movements as he pulls off his vest and his belt, tugs at the fasteners of his shirt. Smiles to himself as he undresses, his cock half-hard already as he shucks his trousers down his legs, leaving them in a heap on the floor as he turns to pull down the blankets on the bed.

He’s pleased to find them kissing, at least, when he turns around, Leia’s hands to either side of Luke’s face, Luke’s hands at Leia’s waist. Nothing sordid or passionate about it, but it’s something. Makes Han feel a bit underdressed when they break apart to look at him, both of them still fully dressed and Han fully nude, but he shrugs it off and climbs into bed, the soft Sullustan sheets and luxurious mattress impossibly comfortable beneath him, nothing at all like the hard mattress in the captain’s quarters of the _Falcon,_ the sagging bunks common in Republic bases.

“I think he may have finished without us, Luke,” Leia says, deadpan, leaning against Luke’s chest with a wicked smirk on her lips as she watches Han sink into the comfort of the bed with a groan.

“You’re not far off, Princess,” Han says, wiggling a little just to feel the silky slide of the sheets against his bare skin, the fabric cool, warming slowly from the heat of his body. “This bed could give either of you competition on your best day.”

Leia rolls her eyes at him, Luke’s arm tightening just a fraction where it’s wrapped around her. Han can tell his words have sparked her competitive nature, though, her earlier shyness all but gone as she leans back and pulls Luke down for a kiss, sighing into it loudly enough that Han can hear her, knows it’s intended for him.

He doesn’t much mind. They’re a beautiful sight together, Luke’s dark clothing and sun-roughened skin stark in contrast with Leia’s simple white dress and pale complexion, Luke’s greater height and strength tempered by his gentle, hesitant touches, Leia taking control as they kiss, pulling at his tunic and belt while he holds her close, passive and possessive and almost virginally shy, for all that Han has personally seen to it that he’s anything _but_ a virgin, knows without doubt that Leia has seen to the same. Luke makes a soft noise in his throat, submissive and thick with wanting when Leia unfastens his trousers and reaches inside to touch him, his hands unsteady as he blindly unclasps the ornate fasteners holding the collar of her dress closed. Leia echoes his sound of pleasure with one of her own, stepping back half a step to shrug out of her dress, her body nude beneath, a strange Alderaanian tradition among royalty that Han was positively _thrilled_ to discover the first time he slept with her. She turns to look at him when he shifts to palm himself under the covers, her eyes narrowed when he grins at her, not even trying to conceal the movement of his hand on his own cock.

“We aren’t putting on a show for your entertainment,” she says, her Commander voice at complete odds with her nudity, the flush of arousal warm on her cheeks.

“Then stop standing there ignoring me and get into bed,” Han says. “I was just tryin’ to be polite, giving the two’a you your space.” It isn’t entirely a lie, but neither twin buys it, Leia scowling at him while Luke breathes out on a laugh, kissing his sister’s hair before stepping back to strip out of his tunic and trousers, his movements careful and intentional, controlled in a way Han very much wants to shatter, lust building in his gut as Luke reveals himself, shifting muscles wrapped in skin scarred with memory, all of his beautiful, sensitive places scattered across him like a hidden map, his cock fully, gloriously erect, thick and long and pushing at his foreskin already. He pulls the covers back on the far side of the bed and climbs in first, offering Leia his hand as she climbs in beside him, and he gets a kiss for it, Leia laughing quietly into his mouth as he kisses her back. He tenses almost imperceptibly when Han rolls towards him and touches him for the first time. Moans softly when Leia kisses him again, Han mouthing kisses across his shoulder, nosing at the back of his ear where he’s ticklish.

“I don’t — I don’t know how this works,” he gasps, going stiff in Han’s embrace, Leia’s hand wrapped around his cock already when Han slides a hand over his hip to touch him, feel him go slick, and Han doesn’t mean to laugh at him but he can’t help himself, kissing the frown on Luke’s mouth when Luke turns to look at him, embarrassment and temper plain in his gaze.

“Ain’t like there’s a book of rules for this kind of thing, kid,” Han says, moving his hand lower to stroke the inside of Luke’s thigh, the side of his hand nudging the warmth of Luke’s sac, feeling the brush of Leia’s hand against his as she strokes the full length of Luke’s cock, faster than before. “No different from one-on-one. Just do what feels good.” He bites Luke’s shoulder. _“You_ feel good.”

Luke shudders against him. “So do you,” he says. He turns away, kisses Leia softly. “Both of you.”

Leia hums softly and shifts closer, reaching over Luke’s body to touch Han, her fingertips bumping a little awkwardly against his hip, feeling blindly forward, tugging at his cock where it’s pressed against the curve of Luke’s buttocks, stroking it when Han figures out what she wants and angles away from Luke’s warmth, freeing her to stroke him. Between them, Luke shifts, kissing Han once more on the mouth before moving down the bed, graceless in his care not to bump Leia’s arm, the blankets bunching up around his legs, his frustration as he kicks at them almost adorable. He manages to extricate himself when Leia takes pity on him and lets go of Han’s erection, lying back on the soft sheets to watch Luke push the blankets away, his gaze hungry when he turns back to look at her.

“Can I?” he says, glancing at Han before looking back at Leia, intense in a way that makes Han’s cock ache for the touch of Leia’s hand or Luke’s backside once again, the heat of wanting pooling in his gut.

Leia flushes and nods, opening her legs and closing her eyes, her lips parting as she draws in a slow breath, her anticipation almost palpable in the air around her. Han takes in the sight of her, commits it to memory as best he can, his cock jerking with the eroticism of her posture, open and bare and waiting, exposed and trusting to Luke’s touch in a way she never has been with him. He mutters a breathless curse when Luke kneels between her spread thighs and opens her with his hands, no hesitation or shyness as he covers her cunt in a wet, open-mouth kiss, dragging his tongue across her clit in broad, slow strokes, his throat working as she jerks beneath him, going very still as he moves his mouth lower, pushing his tongue inside her cunt, sucking and swallowing against her swollen lips as he does. He _growls_ when Han slides down the bed to join him and slips his hand between Luke’s mouth and the sheets going damp beneath Leia’s body, possessive in a way that makes Han’s cock jerk, precome dripping down his thigh, smearing as he shifts his position.

“Like this,” Han says, when Luke pulls his mouth away from Leia’s cunt, licking his lips, his brow furrowed in a competitive expression that Han would laugh about if it weren’t turning him on so hard. He slides his hand forward, pressing two of his fingers into the slick warmth of Leia’s cunt, curling them against the muscles inside, tensed from Luke’s touch. Luke watches him, exhaling a soft sound as he leans down to pull Han’s thumb into his mouth and give it a hard, wet suck before turning his attention back to Leia’s pleasure, his chin slick against Han’s palm as he licks to either side of Leia’s clit, Leia breathing his name, the sound broken over a moan when he presses his mouth fully over her once again, her cunt tightening around Han’s fingers as Luke licks her, his tongue flat and insistent against her clit.

 _No small wonder she’s missed sleeping with him,_ Han thinks, leaning over Leia’s shaking body to mouth at her nipple, grazing his teeth just lightly over it, soothing it with a brush of his tongue when it hardens in his mouth. He’s always considered himself a generous lover, always tried to make sure she climaxed whenever they shared a bed, but he’s never seen her like this, never so lost in pleasure, so consumed by it. Doubts he could give her the same, even if he’d tried, his passions dwarfed as always in comparison with Luke’s, as dim as a glowbulb before the twin suns of Tatooine. He does what he can to add to her pleasure, though, working his fingers inside her in a steady, fretful rhythm, pressing against her as she tenses, climbing towards orgasm. He nuzzles the stiff peak of her nipple, sucks a bruise onto the pale skin just under her breast when her breathing speeds, her chest heaving as she gulps at the air. Bites at her, just gently, just to see if she responds to it as positively as Luke does, to see if she’s ticklish in the same spots.

She doesn’t respond to it at all, instead jostling him free from his spot against her ribs when she reaches down, lightning-quick, and tangles her fingers in Luke’s hair. Han turns to watch her gripping fretfully at her brother, his heart stuttering in his chest as a strangled _don’t stop_ tears from her throat, her hips jerking and stuttering, her cunt tightening impossibly around Han’s fingers. He lies beside her, motionless save for the press of his fingers curling fretfully inside her, and takes in the glory of her pleasure, her back bowing and cheeks flushed bright as Luke mouths her into a breathless, sobbing orgasm, the bed shaking as she rocks against his mouth. Han can feel Luke’s tongue stroking her, dipping down low to trace long, slow strokes up the sides of her cunt as the spasms shudder through her, aftershocks rippling through her muscles, her cunt tightening fretfully whenever he brushes too close to her clit. He licks lower when her hands go slack in his hair, the tip of his tongue tracing the line between Han’s fingers, and above him, Leia sighs and relaxes, her mouth curved in a satisfied smile as Luke drops a single kiss to the swollen nub of her clit and moves higher, kissing the inside of her thigh, the jut of her hipbone. Pushing himself up far enough to mouth at her navel, answering her quiet laugh with a smile and a look at Han that makes Han’s heart clench in his chest, putting him at serious risk of falling in love with the man lying beside him all over again.

“Don’t see why you need me around,” he says, drawing his fingers slowly from Leia’s body, dragging them slowly to either side of her clit, just to make her jerk and tremble, her clit warm and wet and hyper-sensitive still from Luke’s mouth. “That was a helluva performance.”

Luke blushes. Leia punches him artlessly in the chest, her strength far less diminished by her orgasm than Han would have thought it would be. He kisses her before she can find the words to fuss at him, leans down her body to kiss Luke next, the salt of Leia’s orgasm sharp on Luke’s mouth, his lips fuller than Han’s used to when Han sucks his lower lip into his mouth, taking the kiss long. He can feel Leia watching them kiss, wonders if she’s jealous, if she can sense the difference in his feelings when he kisses her and when he kisses Luke. Luke will, he knows without giving it too much thought, the younger man’s connection with the Force as real as it is unnerving, giving him insight Han has resigned himself to accepting as inevitable.

He breaks the kiss and leans down to kiss Leia again when guilt tugs at him, something like sympathy sparking in his chest for the beautiful woman stretched out beside him in a post-orgasmic haze. Leia has needed many things over the years Han’s known her, rescue and comfort and support and trust, but never sympathy, never pity. She sighs into the kiss he gives her, turns to loop her arm around his shoulders, pulling herself up without breaking the kiss, their legs bumping a little awkwardly as Han sits up with her, pulling her into his lap. She looks like she’s gotten away with something when she rocks her hips forward, rubbing herself against the length of his cock. Reaches down between them and wraps her hand around his erection, stroking it twice before arching up and sliding it into her body, sinking him fully into her with one smooth roll of her hips.

“Oh, you feel good,” she breathes, only the slightest hitch in her breathing betraying her pleasure.

Han curses in Corellian and pushes his hips forward, seeking friction he can’t really get from their position, completely at Leia’s mercy. He shudders a little when Luke moves behind him, mouthing at the back of his neck, one of Luke’s hands resting on Leia’s thigh, feeling the flex of muscle as she rolls her hips once again, the suck and rub of her around Han’s cock subtle and maddening. It’s all at once better and worse when Luke reaches between them and touches, fingertips nudging just gently against Leia’s lips, stretched around Han’s cock. His other hand traces the cleft of Han’s buttocks, pressing just hard enough at Han’s perineum to make Han groan and shiver, sliding back to tease at the pucker of Han’s ass, the pressure and resistance of dry skin against dry skin maddening and phenomenal.

“I think he likes that, Luke,” Leia says, leaning back and moving faster, her breasts moving in rhythm with the push of her hips, her nipples firm and dark in the warm light of the room. Han opens his mouth to say something about her stating the obvious, but the touch of Luke’s other hand, wet and slippery with Leia’s pleasure, touching where he’s been teasing Han, one of his fingers pushing inside to the second knuckle without prelude, fully distracts him, his mind blanking with the sheer, furious arousal rushing through him at Luke’s touch. His hips stutter and jerk as Luke fingers him, his instincts torn between shying away from the unexpected penetration and pushing back into it, seeking more, his heart kicking against his ribs, panic lancing through him as his cock throbs against the slick tightness of Leia’s cunt, hard enough that for one heart-stopping moment he thinks he’s about to come. He tips his head forward when his stamina holds, resting it on Leia’s shoulder, and sucks in a sharp breath. Shivers when Luke leans against him, kissing down his spine.

“Is this okay?” he says. “Do you want me to stop?”

Han laughs, his hair scrubbing against Leia’s soft skin as he shakes his head. “More’n okay, Luke,” he breathes. “Keep going.”

Luke presses a kiss to his shoulder. “All right,” he says, far too calm about the whole thing. He presses his finger in deeper, all the way in, and twists it, the angle wrong for him to work Han’s prostate, but the stretch is enough, feels good in counterpoint to the friction of Leia moving in his lap, no impatience in her rhythm, just the languid push and slide of her around him, her eyes dark when he looks up at her, sees her watching him, watching Luke pleasure him.

He isn’t best pleased when Luke pulls out of him to fetch the vial of oil he brought with him, though it’s never a bad thing to get to see Luke Skywalker nude and aroused, showing off the shift of his muscles as he bends down to search through the pockets of his discarded trousers, the head of his cock shiny with precome when he straightens and returns to the bed, streaks of slickness drying on the insides of his thighs, speaking to his arousal. He touches Han with his prosthetic hand, steadying him, shy as always to use his false fingers to stretch Han open whenever they fuck, pushes two fingers in straight away, the stretch and pressure dragging a groan from Han’s throat, Han’s hands tightening on Leia’s hips, pulling her down on his cock faster, deeper. She answers with a breathless moan, meeting him in counterpoint, her hands gripping his shoulders hard, balancing her.

It’s good but it’s not enough, Han’s blood singing with the frustration of wanting _more,_ the ache in his knees distracting him from pushing up into Leia’s welcoming heat or back into Luke’s masterful touch. He hears himself whine, needier and less restrained than he’s been in _decades_ when Leia pushes herself up and off of him, one of her fingers pressing against his mouth before he can embarrass himself by straight-up begging her to come back, to make him come. She lies back on the bed, instead, pushing one of the pillows piled at the head of the bed under her hips, elevating her. Giving Han the wickedest little grin when he reaches for her, sliding his hands up her thighs, squeezing the muscles that tense as she spreads her legs to him, shamelessly showing off her cunt, wet and pink and swollen with arousal.

Luke bites him on the shoulder when Han reaches down to touch, twists his hand as Han drags his fingertips over Leia’s clit, Luke’s fingertips pushing simultaneously against Han’s prostate, careless and rough in the way he gets only when he’s come to Han’s bunk in the direct aftermath of a battle hard won, fighting for the energy to satisfy himself before fatigue overwhelms him. He reaches forward to stroke Han’s cock as he does, concerned as ever even in the haze of lust for Han’s comfort and pleasure, considerate to the point of self-sacrifice, his breath hot and fast against Han’s back as he works him, his cockhead nudging against Han’s backside, slick and hot. He pushes Han forward none-too-gently and Leia reaches for him as if reading Luke’s mind, guiding Han’s cock into her body. She’s tight, tensing around him as he pushes into her, the angle of her body perfect for him to slide in deep. Looks at him with such affection and desire that Han has to duck his head and kiss her, just to escape it, the intensity of her feelings for him always more than he’s willing to accept.

He doesn’t last long, the push and squeeze of Leia’s cunt around his length and the press and stretch of Luke’s fingers working inside him conspiring to eat at his stamina, the world around him shrinking to the bright, breathless pleasure of being trapped between his two lovers, the feel and sound of them overwhelming and undoing him as he moves between them. He closes his eyes against the friction and pressure and the slickness around and inside him, Leia’s cunt enveloping him, Luke’s cock rubbing hot against his ass, Luke’s fingers milking him. His breath catches in his throat as he feels his body twist from almost-there to oh-god-don’t-stop to shattering into an orgasm that rips through his entire body, his fingertips tingling and head spinning as he spends himself inside Leia’s body, Luke working him steadily through the pleasure, one arm wrapped tight around Han’s body as Han comes down from it, supporting him as he goes slack, shivering helplessly through the aftershocks of friction as Luke pulls his fingers free, the solid warmth of his erection nestling in the cleft of Han’s ass instead, rubbing fretfully against him.

“C’mon,” he breathes, sucking in a sharp breath as Leia rocks her hips, sliding him free of her body, the wet friction of her too much too soon, his cock raw in the aftermath of his orgasm, for all that he’s still fully erect. He tips his head back, nudges Luke’s forehead with his chin. “Do it.”

Behind him, Luke makes a broken, desperate sound that makes Han’s cock jerk, a dribble of semen escaping to slide down his length. He doesn’t do as he’s told, doesn’t push himself into Han’s body and fuck him like Han’s expecting him to, _wants_ him to. He tightens the arm wrapped around Han’s chest instead and rocks his body against Han’s back, his cock rubbing against the cleft of Han’s ass, impossibly slick with precome and iron hard, Han’s mouth watering at the thought of it, of how aroused Luke must be from denying himself. Hand shaking, he reaches back between them and rubs at Luke’s cock, strokes the stiff length of it. Manages to push Luke away just enough to angle him down, to press the slick warmth of Luke’s cockhead against his hole, slick and stretched and ready, and as he rocks backward, taking Luke into himself, Luke cries out and thrusts up _hard,_ burying himself deep in Han’s body with a single, powerful thrust, and spends himself immediately, the throb of his orgasm thrumming against the sensitive muscle of Han’s ass.

“Sorry,” he gasps, rolling his hips to press himself in deep through the aftershocks, grazing Han’s prostate as he does, a tired mockery of his usual skills in bed. “I knew I was close, but —”

Han shuts him up with a kiss, his back protesting weakly at the angle he’s twisted it, Luke sucking in a sharp breath and pulling out, hypersensitive as always immediately after he’s come. “You were amazing,” Han tells him, biting gently at Luke’s lips. He turns and reaches for Leia, pulls her up to kiss her, too. “Both of you.”

Leia gives him a knowing look and leans past him to kiss Luke, a chaste, almost shy press of lips to lips. “I’m going to clean up,” she says, moving a little stiffly as she slides to the edge of the bed and climbs to her feet, her nipples peaked in the chill of the room, her skin rough with gooseflesh. “Keep the bed warm for me, you two.”

“Will do, your highness,” Han says, tossing off a lazy salute in her direction. He pulls Luke close once she’s disappeared into the ‘fresher and tugs at the mess of blankets tangled at their feet, manages to find a corner and pull the covers up, pushing Luke down and kissing him once they’re covered, Luke’s answering kiss languid and affectionate, just the right side of sloppy, speaking to an afterglow as powerful as his orgasm.

“I love you, y’know,” Han tells him, his voice low despite Leia’s absence, the thick door to the ‘fresher keeping her well out of earshot.

Luke smiles up at him, sleepy and relaxed, more precious to Han than anything or anyone else in the world. “I’d started to suspect,” he says.

Han snorts and kisses him again, reaching down to pinch his side, where he’s ticklish. “Don’t tell Leia,” he says.

Luke captures his hand, pulling it up to rest over his breastbone, his heart beating a steady rhythm, just a bit faster than Han’s expecting. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise. And Han?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks.”

Han grins and presses Luke down for a kiss, keeps him close until the tightness Luke’s words put in his throat eases, tiredness bleeding out the sharper edges of the jumbled emotions stuffed too tightly inside his chest. “Anytime, Luke,” he says like a promise breathed across Luke’s mouth. “Any time.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello 10k of porn, you were supposed to be a quick 2k smutfest, what happened to you~

There’s a _lot_ of sex happening here and not much plot. That’s not usually how I roll. Anyone mind? I somehow don’t think anyone minds. Also, I wrote the second half of this story first, and then the first half, and let me tell you, getting the two halves to join in the middle was no small feat. Egad.

A few other points of interest:

Unhappy headcanon: We have an actual love triangle going on with these three. Luke is obviously besotted with Leia, who is clearly in love with Han (despite herself), who is probably the most canon-clearly in love with Luke. They all love each other, of course, but when it comes to the whole uncontrolled devotion thing, no one ends up with their feelings reciprocated.

Happy headcanon: They can fix this by not trying to adhere to traditions of monogamy. I’m pretty sure I speak for all of us when I say we all win with this arrangement.

Happier headcanon: My brain has decided that Luke is pretty damn well hung, and Han just can’t get enough of him. Neither can Leia. I don’t see why they should ever be without. I’m also of the opinion that, of the three of them, Luke would be the most repressed, needing the most coaxing to do much beyond missionary with the lights off, at first.

Happiest headcanon: Luke’s characteristic enthusiasm for everything and tendency to throw himself fully into everything he does would totally apply to sex. Especially oral sex — for some reason, I can see him being all about using his mouth on his partner, seeing them happy and satisfied without focusing on himself.

Or maybe I’m just using that as an excuse to write him going down on everyone because _holy shit_ is that a nice mental image. Good _god._

On an unrelated note, the vast majority of smut in this story was written in the lightest lavender font Word has to offer because I was stealth-writing smut while on no fewer than three planes, traveling from my home on the eastern side of the United States to Bangkok, Thailand, with my long-suffering partner and his legitimately batshit crazy mother in tow. Those two notwithstanding, if you’ve never been to Thailand, you’re missing out. Of all the nations I’ve lived/worked in, this is my favorite. Thais are a badass bunch with a fascinating history and a unique culture, even if their food does tend to liquefy my innards and make me cry for water like a wimp. *nods*

On a more related note, I think my characterization of Han kind of fell apart in this story, but that’s just what happens when I write stuff that isn’t just dripping with angst (though some sneaked in at one point, I’m not sure how that happened). Oh, and on a _totally_ related note, this story is, in its smutty entirety, for CultureVulture73, because yes, the OT3. Need and want and please and thank you oh my _stars_ ‘n garters. :D

**Edit 24 Apr 016** : How come none’a y’all told me I had a continuity error in the very first part of this smutfest? ~~Might’ve just answered my own question with that, actually.~~ I had them going to bed on Endor’s moon and waking up in hyperspace. Didn’t even notice it m’self until last night. That’s fixed now. Glad the unrepentant porn distracted everyone from my past-tense jet lag induced stupidity!


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